Florentina Holzinger in Venice

By Elke Buhr

Gray rain clouds hang over the lagoon. A few boats ferry the lucky few who managed to snag a spot out to sea and unload them at a floating pontoon. The audience sits on a platform opposite a platform from which a massive crane rises. Holzinger's naked performers lean confidently against the railing, a band plays, the conductor beats out the thumping noise-metal sounds, the singer shrieks. The guitarist climbs onto the crane—and, phew, back down again unscathed.

But once again, you hold your breath. As the crane slowly pulls up a heavy iron chain suspended in the water, a bell emerges, inside which hangs a body, upside down: the dripping wet Florentina Holzinger. She is hoisted up, swings back and forth, and strikes the ringing metal like a living bell clapper. Then another performer has meat hooks inserted into her back and soon dangles a few meters below Holzinger from the rope attached to the bell; a brutal pas de deux begins, striking you right in the solar plexus.

This "Étude" was the prelude to Holzinger's exhibition in the Austrian Pavilion, and it kicked off a performance that overshadows everything else at this Biennale. According to the Austrian choreographer's concept, "Seaworld Venice" is intended to be a theme park that deals with the water of the lagoon, with wastewater and the cycle, but also with the challenge of surviving in a world that is crumbling at every turn – a response to the great shitshow of our time.